Quite the Fight
by Cassodembreankia
Summary: Dedicated to callieandjack. Based on a conversation we had on what would happen if Loki and Peter Pan were to fight over a girl. (T for later violence. Two OCs - sort of.)
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: This story is dedicated to the wonderful and hilarious "callieandjack" - who I suspect is also going to be the only person to ever read this. If you want to prove me wrong on that, that's cool too. :-D I do hope whomever reads this enjoys it. I know a lot of people don't really read crossovers. But I like them!**

* * *

><p>Callie and I stood about two feet apart on the Avengers Tower balcony, eyes trained up towards the roof and squinted against the bright sunlight.<p>

Two male figures were way up there. One was hovering in open, empty air, and the other was standing on the roof. The flying one was dressed in patchy greens and browns, with thick light brown hair, eyes that shifted endlessly between blue and green, pale skin, and powerful muscles, but quite the beanpole. He was about 5'9". The one on the roof wore black, gold, and green armor, had long black hair, icy blue eyes, skin so pale it looked like snow, and powerful muscles hidden under the strange garb he wore. Just like the other one, he was a slim beanpole. He was probably 6'1" or 6'2".

"What are they doing?" Callie asked.

My face flushed a bright shade of red. I didn't want to tell her. They were having a standoff—but that much was obvious. Though she asked _what_, she meant _why_. And that was where the horrific embarrassment came in—the part I didn't want to admit. "I don't know," I replied.

"You're not a very good liar, Cass," she commented.

_Tell me something I _don't _know,_ I sassed silently. At some point in my life I was going to get an attitude adjustment—I just hadn't gotten around to it yet—and Callie knew it.

Before either of us could say anything else, the smaller of the two men—the hovering one—threw a fireball. The kind that literally came from nowhere.

A blast of ice from the one on the roof met it midair and froze it. It fell and landed squarely in front of me and my friend and promptly shattered into pieces—sending shards of glass-water everywhere. My arms flew up in front of my face, but neither of us were harmed. As the blue-white icicles pooled around our feet, the men eight stories(ish) above us began talking in threatening voices, tones escalating to furious rage. But we were too far away to hear them.

Another round of fire-and-ice (in the opposite order this time) sent cold water raining down in our hair. Both of us instinctively recoiled and shook droplets out of our faces. Callie and I let out little squeaks of alarm, but didn't dare make any more noise for fear of attracting unwanted attention from the angry parties upstairs.

"Callie!" The door to the balcony burst open and a very tall man rushed out. He was about the same height as the man in the armor, with short blond hair and crystal blue eyes. He had bigger muscles than the other two men and just _looked_ like the embodiment of _hunk_. Not _hulk_. I live with Hulk—and this man looked nothing like him. He gathered my friend to his chest. "What are you doing out here?" he demanded. "It's not safe!" Callie gave me a smile over one of her boyfriend's large biceps but sighed at his protectiveness. She knew I'd never let her get hurt by the two guys upstairs.

"I'm _fine_, Steve," she insisted.

"Come on. We're going inside."

"And find a nice broom closet to hide in?" my friend suggested, sounding both mischievous and hopeful. I snickered behind my hand, trying to be polite for his old-fashioned-manners' sake.

Steve looked a little flustered. "Sure," he replied, a small shade of pink igniting on his cheekbones. Keeping one arm around Callie's shoulders, he rushed back inside, leaving me on the balcony alone to watch the two angry guys shouting at each other in British accents. I knew it was escalating quickly because more than just fire and ice was flinging between the two of them now. Knives, attempted illusions, several insults I couldn't quite make out, and a couple lightning bolts.

The man on the rooftop jumped at the younger one, missed, and landed on a flying-boat-thing. With an angry growl I could barely hear, he went flying after the teenaged man—who was darting through the city and flying very quickly under his own power.

I'm getting a little ahead of myself aren't I? Sorry about that. Give me just a second to rewind.

_Loading…_

_ Loading…_

_ Loading…_

_Ready!_

* * *

><p><strong>End Note: And there's the prologue. I'm having <em>way<em> too much fun writing this, by the way!**

**~Cass**


	2. 1: PJs and OUAT

**Author's Note: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP! I've had WAY WAY WAY too much fun writing this! It makes me so happy. This is the rewind, so essentially this is where it all starts - sort of. Squeak! This is so much fun. The great thing about this character is I don't have to tailor the way I write for a character's voice. I'm experimenting with using my own voice. Easily distracted and all.**

**Disclaimer (as usual): I own nothing OUAT or Avengers.**

* * *

><p>Callie and I shared a floor in Avengers Tower. The whole thing was big enough for eight two-bedroom apartments—and it was just the two of us with a wall down the center. We had plenty of room. The wall was thick enough that we couldn't hear the other unless we had the music up to <em>deafening<em> levels—which neither of us was too fond of because we were both too fond of our hearing.

As it was, I had my Classic Rock music—_Styx—_up way too loud. Dancing around my half of the floor and singing as loud as I could because I knew Callie wouldn't mind, because like as not she probably couldn't hear me.

My music shut off for a moment so the doorbell could buzz from the speakers before resuming. I hit pause on my iPod Touch and went over to the door.

"Callie!" I exclaimed happily when I opened it to her "sarcastically amused" face. Her boyfriend Steve—yes, _the_ Steve Rogers as in Captain America—was standing behind her. He gave me a little wave with one of his mischievous grins. After crushing on him _immensely_ (but nothing more I promise) before I knew he and my friend were in a relationship, his and mine had lapsed into completely platonic and honestly I was glad it did. He was great, but sometimes it was better to have an older brother than a boyfriend—don't tell Callie I said that. "Is my music up too loud?"

"What? No. I didn't even know you were listening to music," she replied. You see why I don't mind sharing a floor? Apart from having the best neighbors _ever_, I had the best floormate. And they weren't just neighbors. They were family. I looked on Bruce, Tony, Clint, and even Thor as uncles. Steve was like a brother. Natasha was the _nice_ older sister I always wanted—and so was Callie. Pepper was an aunt to me.

"Then what's that face for?" I asked.

"What face?"

"That what-the-heck-are-you-doing-this-time-Cass face," I retorted.

"No, this is my Tony's-been-trying-to-get-a-hold-of-you-via-intercom-and-you-haven't-heard-him face," she snapped teasingly.

My shoulders slouched. "Oh," I muttered. "What does he want?"

"We're having a family night up on the balcony floor. Movies, popcorn, music, you know. A little Avengers party."

I _loved_ little Avengers parties. We would play Apples to Apples and charades and Uno and dance and watch Netflix until three in the morning—by which point Callie was usually asleep with her head in Steve's lap and I usually ended up sprawled out on the counter somehow with my face in a popcorn bowl. Yeah… don't ask.

"Okay. I'm gonna take a shower and get in my jammies," I said. For those of you unfamiliar with my terms, "jammies" mean pajamas—or pyjamas if you're British. Is that British? I think it's British. Sorry. Didn't mean to get sidetracked.

Callie and Steve shrugged and proceeded back to her half of the floor. I suspected they'd come out with messy hair and Callie's lip gloss would be all over Steve's face.

Don't tell Callie I said that.

* * *

><p>"<em>You're just too good to be true… can't take my eyes off of you…<em>" John Barrowman's CD was singing from the stereo in the corner when I stepped out of the elevator in satin jammies, wet golden-brown hair freshly braided—with some help from Callie because I can't see what I'm doing—and my summer bathrobe. My winter one was thick and fleecy, but my summer one was light. The others were mostly in their pajamas too. Steve in a T-shirt and flannels, Clint and Tony in a tank top and basketball shorts, Bruce in a plaid pajama set with a pen sticking out of the chest pocket, Thor in a light, red tunic and linen trousers, Natasha in leggings and a long shirt, Pepper in a tank top nightgown, Thor's girlfriend/fiancée in flannels and a silk dressing gown, and Callie in an overlarge T-shirt (probably Steve's—don't tell her I said that) and sweat pants.

"Where is… _he?"_ Clint asked warily, looking right at me. I shrugged. I wasn't quite sure who he was talking about. Fury? Coulson? Oh wait… yes I did. There was only one "he" Clint was edgy around.

_My_ boyfriend.

Also known as Loki. By the way.

"How should I know?" I retorted sassily.

"We're not together every second of the day—unlike _those guys_." I jerked my thumb over at where Callie and Steve were on the couch and practically in each other's laps and where Tony and Pepper were grinning at each other by the granite counter. Clint snickered and nodded.

"Fair enough Fireball," he joked, using the nickname no one had called me in _years_. I narrowed my dark eyes at him. He just gave me a smirk and didn't say anything else.

I felt cold breath breeze over the back of my neck. "Miss me?" a voice asked, British accent lilting his tone. Even though I couldn't see him, I could feel his icy eyes on the back of my head and knew his tongue was between his teeth in a mischievous grin. I turned around.

I'll be the first to say Loki was a whole foot taller than me. I'm _almost_ five-foot-two. So I had to bring his head down and go up on tiptoe to give him a kiss. I heard Callie catcall from behind me and rolled my eyes. But it was probably because Loki picked me up by my waist so I was on his level, my feet hanging a foot in the air. When he set me down, he let me pull him into a hold and dance with him around the cold hardwood floor.

Okay. Before you wonder why I'm dating a psychopath… Loki. Has. Changed. And he changed because of me—which is probably why we're still together. He was the one who coined my nickname—Fireball. We met when I was about fourteen. We were bitter enemies then. I was living with the Avengers—and I'll explain why later I promise—and that made us enemies. But when I pulled him out of the way of a tour bus in the middle of New York, and then when we got trapped in a cellar for about two days—long story—we became friends. Over the course of the next three—almost four now—years, he became good and we fell in love. Normally I would never admit that, but it's true.

"_I love you baby and if it's quite alright I need you baby to warm a lonely night—"_ The CD was still playing and we kept dancing. Neither of us was very good, but we were having fun. After a moment of laughing, Tony and Pepper joined us.

When the song was over, the track changed to _Hooked on a Feeling_ by Blue Swede. Everyone danced to that—having a _great_ time. By the time it was over no one was in partners—we had an uneven amount of girls anyway—and I was on the floor with a stitch in my side from laughing. Apparently I hadn't noticed the fact that Bruce wasn't dancing, because he came back to our impromptu dance floor with several bowls of popcorn precariously balanced up his arms.

"So… uh… what movie?" he asked. Poor guy was horrendously eleventh-wheeling it (Thor/Jane, Callie/Steve, Tony/Pepper, Loki/Moi, Clint/Natasha) and I knew that once upon a time he had a girlfriend, but after Tony helped me scour the whole freakin' country for her, we found nothing. I wasn't very computer savvy, but I was still looking for her.

"How about a TV show pilot tonight?" Pepper suggested. If they agreed on Game of Thrones I was going back to my room. I had nothing against people who liked it—or the show—but I had a very old-fashioned moral code (still do) and high standards for my entertainment. Plus anything explicit whilst sitting next to my boyfriend—who by the way, was wearing a loose green shirt and loose black trousers, since I didn't mention his jammies earlier—would make me horrendously uncomfortable. And, of course, me being sassy me, I told them that. As always, I got a few chuckles from the group, but they were family to me. They respected my decisions.

"We should watch _Once Upon a Time,_" Callie proposed from where Steve was putting a piece of popcorn in her mouth. I relaxed. I was glad she'd always be on my side even though the others usually were too.

"Yeah! That sounds great!" Jane agreed.

* * *

><p><strong>End Note: I don't really have much else to say. Thanks for the followsfaves/review! Love y'all!**

**To "callieandjack": Glad you love this story. *sends airhug over the Internet* I don't know who's going to win. Actually I do. But I can't tell you now can I? Spoil the surprise, it would!**

**THANKS FOR READING!**

**~Cass**


	3. 2: Straws, Notes, and Dancing

**Author's Note: I know this is up early since I usually do once-a-week postings unless I'm busy (which I've actually been lately), but I'm having so much fun I just ****_have_**** to give everyone more! *Squeals* THIS IS SOOOOOO FUUUUUUUN!**

* * *

><p>Tony was the first to drop off. His head fell back against the couch and his mouth hung open. Callie, Clint, Natasha and I spent the rest of the episode—which we had all already watched—seeing how many straws we could hang off of it before he woke up. When there was simply no more space, we took a few pictures and resumed our seats. Loki—for once—had elected to stay out of the mischief claiming sometimes it was just as fun to observe. I'd shrugged and laid one more straw across his mouth.<p>

About three hours and four episodes later—isn't binge watching great?—he woke up because Callie shrieked in surprise when Steve tried to startle her. Spewing straws out of his mouth—and one or two choice words that he saved for very angry occasions—he snapped at "whoever it was" to never do that again. I busted a gut and threw a popcorn kernel into his still gaping mouth. Clint had taught me how to aim pretty well. He gave me an angry glare, but backed off a bit when Loki put his hand on mine—like he was reminding Iron Man that he wouldn't let him hurt me. How sweet right? I told you he'd changed.

Since _Once Upon a Time_ was kind of our show, and we'd just finished the first two seasons, it was time to start season three. I was excited. From what I'd heard from a great friend at school, season three was pretty good. I was looking forward to it.

"WHAT?!" I exclaimed at the end of the first episode. "No! _He _can't be—I mean… they can't do that!" Loki started laughing.

"Technically they can, Fireball," he said. "It's _their_ show."

"But he's not supposed to be like that!"

"Says who?" Callie challenged.

"_Every story I ever heard as a child_!" I retorted. "That's my favorite fairy tale of all time!"

"Well, they're certainly putting a new spin on it," Steve commented sedately.

"They're _destroying_ my image of one of my heroes!" I moaned.

Although, I gotta admit, by the next couple episodes, _he_ (if you haven't seen it I'm trying not to give you spoilers) had me wrapped around his little finger. I totally believed everything he was saying. Even though I had my reservations—of course—I could feel a certain excitement whenever he came on screen. That always meant something was about to go down. And something important at that.

I suppose I should mention that by the time we finished episode two, my inner fangirl-workings were harboring a bit of a "fictional character crush" on him. I knew that because of my strict moral code I shouldn't _like_ the bad guy… but I was dating Loki. Guess I'm just a sucker for a good lying, manipulative, attractive, magical psychopath. Plus, the actor who played him was freaking adorable. Did part of me still love Hook and Charming? Yeah. But he was… a bit deeper of a character than those two if I have to be honest. And as a writer, I'm always looking out for the best characters.

Finishing our binge-watch at two in the morning, Loki escorted me back to my room, kissed me on the forehead, and bade me good night. Not quite closing the door, I listened for when the elevator came back. I heard Steve and Callie's voices giggling. I might have heard the sounds of deep, _deep _kissing too, but I was so tired at that point that I eased my door closed, locked it to keep a Tony out for revenge out, strolled wearily across my half of the floor, and climbed into bed, throwing my bathrobe on the ground.

I guess watching a show with such a creepy but _awesome_ villain spooked me out. I saw figures in shadows everywhere that night. I thought I saw eyes looking at me through the window. But I was ninety-six floors up. There was no way to spy on me unless you could fly.

Before I could dwell on it for too much longer, I dropped off.

* * *

><p>I woke up the next morning with the dawn. As the sun peeked between the buildings of the great New York City, I peeked between the gaps in the covers of my great bed. Slowly I dragged myself out of bed.<p>

I was pretty sure I'd locked the door last night, but a twice-folded piece of paper was sitting on my bedside table with my name on it in extremely fancy handwriting. _Cass._ My own handwriting was quite a bit messier, so I'm pretty sure I didn't write it. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes with one hand and opening the creases with another, I tried to get my brain firing on all synapses again. The paper had six words on it. Six.

_You've got fire. I like fire._

That was a line from the show last night.

Given the line from the show last night, and the elegant handwriting, and how perfectly my nickname from my boyfriend suited the line, I assumed the note was from Loki. Grinning, I slipped it into the file folder where I kept all the cards people gave me for birthdays and Christmas—and the ones Loki had given me on our one-, two-, and three-year anniversaries.

I left my "room" (which is really more of an apartment) at the same time Callie left hers. Steve was waiting for her with a cup of coffee. I wrinkled my nose in distaste and went to the elevator. I didn't like the smell of coffee. It reminded me of airports and waiting in long lines. I didn't drink coffee. Personally I didn't believe in using artificial means of getting energy. The others could believe however they wanted. I was sticking to my ways. I didn't blame them though—last night was a late one and I got _maybe_ five hours of useable sleep. Getting in the elevator, I watched them share a "good morning" kiss right before the doors closed.

Punching a random button, I felt the elevator begin to rise, the familiar swooping feeling sending my stomach churning. But maybe that was from hunger.

It spewed me out on the same floor we'd had our little party on the night before. The one with the doorway to both the balcony and the Iron Man landing pad. It was mostly empty, with just myself, Clint watching the news, and the old record player. It was dusty, but Steve kept it proudly on display, and sometimes played music from it.

"Morning," the master assassin grunted.

"Mornin'," I greeted, my natural Utah accent slurred with sleep. I found the fancy coffeemaker and one of those pod things that made a batch of hot chocolate instead of a batch of flavored coffee.

I was taking a deep swallow from my _Keep Calm, Don't Blink, Grab the Salt, and Txt Sherlock_ SuperWhoLock mug when Callie and Steve came out of the elevator. I gave them a finger-wave in greeting—my mouth was occupied in trying not to get too burned—and set my cup down. They put theirs in the dishwasher. Without a word, Steve snatched the remote from Clint's limp hand, found the mute button after a moment of searching, and hit it. He gave the remote to me and put a record on the turntable.

The song that started playing was old, but I'd heard my grandparents dance to it when I was little—I'd also heard it in a movie soundtrack recently, but I couldn't remember which movie it was. Whoops.

_It's Been a Long, Long Time,_ by Harry James and his orchestra.

Steve held his hand out for Callie—and I realized why he'd given the remote to me. She took it and let him pull her into a hold as I'd done to Loki last night.

Barefoot, the two started dancing around the hardwood floor, smiling, laughing, and pressed close enough to each other that from my vantage point I couldn't quite tell where one ended and the other began. It was so intensely cute I found it difficult to repress my giggling. Clint, too, was watching with an amused gleam in his eyes. I pulled my iPod out of my bathrobe pocket and started to film them to send to Callie's parents later. I didn't know how they'd react, but I figured they'd want to see.

Steve kissed Callie's hair. She giggled.

* * *

><p><strong>End Note: I know this has been a lot of Avengers, and not a lot of OUAT, but the next chapter is from Pan's POV to add a little bit more OUAT to the mix. :-)<strong>

**To "callieandjack": I've used your ideas a couple times, as attested by the paragraphs above. I love them! To: "Catchathief": Try this, :-S. I'm glad you're liking this!**

**Y'all are awesome!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**~Cass**


	4. 3: Pan

**Author's Note: I just want to spew everything I've written on this story because I'm having so much fun. But I AM trying to pace myself. A little. Once-a-day isn't very good is it? Anyway, hope you like! Know I love! This one is in a new POV!**

* * *

><p><em>Pan<em>

* * *

><p>I paced back and forth, ignoring the Lost Boys' questioning looks and thinking deeply. <em>What to do, what to do, what to do.<em> I had to do _something._ I didn't even know how it was possible, but somehow I could feel it.

Back on the mainland, it was probably one in the morning. I'd seen the massive city from afar, but had never gotten a closer look.

_How can I know? How can I know?_ It didn't matter how many times I asked myself the same question. I could feel it. That's how I knew. Like fire burning somewhere in the bottom of my chest. It was dull, but it was there, and it was different from anything I'd felt in the past… couple hundred years. And it was the slight difference that tipped me off.

"What are you going to do, Peter?" Felix asked in the slow tone of his.

"I don't know," I replied, sharper than I intended.

"You're not going to go investigate?"

"I don't know," I repeated.

"It's not very often that something surprises you," my lieutenant commented.

"That I _do_ know," I muttered sarcastically.

"I can keep things running here if you want to go check out the mainland." Felix shifted his club a little higher up his shoulder and shrugged. I sighed. He was probably right. If I didn't go investigate, my curiosity would eat away at me until I did. Putting it off would be counterproductive.

"Fine. Three days. That's all I'll need," I told him.

"Don't fail," my faithful second-in-command joked.

I smirked. "Never do."

* * *

><p>The trail of pixie dust led me across the realms to the large, bright city. Soaring high over many buildings, I stopped at the tallest one. It was dark outside, and so no one could see me if I peered in. Edging as close as possible, I cast my eyes around the room, taking in the scene. People clustered around on furniture, eyes fixed on a large black box with a magical projection inside. I couldn't see the person I was looking for. The one the pixie dust lighted on. Then one of the tall men moved.<p>

And there she was.

She was small, with long, thick, rich brown hair down to just past her waist. It had golden highlights from the recent summer sun, and natural red tints when the light struck it one way. In the poor lighting, it almost looked black. As did her eyes. They were dark brown—several shades darker than her hair. Her face was tanned, with a tiny smattering of freckles on her nose and cheekbones. Her eyelashes were black and so thick they looked fake—but something told me they weren't. She didn't seem the type to try and change her appearance to fit what society expected of her. Her hands were tiny, and so were her feet. Her lips were full and her skin was clear and clean. After a moment she smiled, and I got to see her teeth were perfectly straight and almost completely white.

Quite frankly I was impressed. Despite the silver-white, leopard print satin pajamas, she looked… pretty. I could see a brown leather bracelet on her right wrist and a black watch on her left. A few minutes passed and the pixie dust's magic wore off, making the green glow surrounding her fade. Since she couldn't see it, she didn't notice.

I flew up to the roof of the building she was in and sat down on the edge. Okay. I found her. Why was _she_ the enchantress who was making my chest burn? I couldn't sense any magic on her. The only magic I could sense came from the man with black hair next to her and the blond one halfway across the room—though his was weaker. As far as I could tell, she wasn't particularly important or powerful… so what was it?

I pushed off from the edge of the roof and slowly lowered myself back down to the floor she and the others were on. This time, I turned my attention from her to the black box with the magical projection. When I saw it, I reeled back out of shock.

It was _me_! Or someone very like me. But it had to be me. Same… everything. Clothes, cuffs, belt, boots with red laces up to my knees.

I needed to get to the bottom of this.

* * *

><p>Several hours later, I followed her trail down six floors to the one she obviously lived on. She locked the door, stumbled tiredly across the floor, and climbed into her bed. After a while, when I was certain she was sleeping, I transported myself into the building and pulled a dream catcher out of my pocket. The spell was simple enough—gather her memories and look them over. I performed it quickly and sank into the shadows where no one would be able to see me.<p>

It took about an hour to look through her most recent memories. And there was one thing I gathered. She. Had. Fire. I also found out her name. _Cass_.

Standing up, I returned the memories to her and the dream catcher to my pocket. I pulled a paper out of thin air—along with a quill—and wrote her a little note, folding it and placing it on her desk. It was probably going to spook her, but she was a feisty one. She'd be fine.

I slipped back outside and waited on the roof, casting a special spell that would let me know when she woke up. I needed to find out more. Her past wasn't important to me. How one with no magic was affecting mine _was_ important. As I sat on the roof with my back leaned against one of the protective walls built for safety, I managed to get about four hours of sleep. Which, to be honest, was more than what I usually got on Never Land. But in Never Land I needed less. Its magic kept me going just fine. But this world was… difficult. Different.

When Cass woke up, she went back to the level where I'd first found her. After a few moments, another girl and a tall man came in as well and started to dance. Cass was grinning at them. Another man too was looking amused. I could hear the music from outside, a simple cloaking spell keeping me from being seen by their eyes now that the sun was out.

I'd have to make some sort of move—some sort of _decision_—soon. But at the moment, I also needed to make a plan.

* * *

><p><strong>End Note: So much win! I love writing this story so. dang. much. It's just too fun. Have a great new week! I love Peter Pan and Loki so much. This is<strong> _**GREAT!**_

**~Cass**


	5. 4: Back to Cass

**Author's Note: Eeeeeeeeeep! This is where I ****_really_**** start loving this story over and over and over again. :-D I've said it several times, and I'll say it again, _I'm having WAY too much fun writing this!_ Someone may have to take it away from me if I get too carried away (callieandjack and Catchathief I'm looking at you). I may go through withdrawal symptoms - hands shaking, feeling weak, fever, sweaty - but in the long run... Who am I kidding? DON'T YOU DARE TAKE THIS STORY AWAY FROM ME!**

* * *

><p><em>Back to Cass<em>

* * *

><p>Where was I? Lost my train of thought. So easily distracted I can be in the mornings. Oh! Right! Callie and Steve were dancing weren't they? Yeah… awesome.<p>

That was about the last peaceful moment I'd have for… I'm not entirely sure how long.

After a spin and a dip, I clapped for Steve and Callie's little performance. They smiled and laughed at my sort of groggy face and disheveled hair looking so excited—and at least slightly wired from over-exhaustion and a little too much sugar from the hot chocolate.

The day passed as relatively uneventfully as possible in a Tower full of superheroes. After dinner with my family, I crawled into bed.

I guess by now you're wondering how Callie and myself came to live with the Avengers huh? I'll give you the SparkNotes version. I was a fourteen-year-old from Utah on a quick vacation to Las Vegas to see the Lion King with my aunt, sister, and mother. After the play we went back to our hotel. Tony Stark was there—waiting for _us_. He told my mom I was his long-lost cousin and I needed to come with him for a couple years for protection—from what he didn't say and still hasn't said. It took a while, but eventually Mom gave in and let me come. I'm not actually his cousin, he just said that to make it easier on her. He did almost the exact same to Callie. Around the same time. We've been in the Avengers Tower ever since.

Curling up under my covers, I was starting to get comfortable.

Then the pipes started. It was a haunting melody. Probably played by a set of reed pipes. My eyes snapped open and I rolled out of bed. It was coming from the door that separated my apartment from the elevator and the entrance to Callie's. It was almost in a daze that I slipped out of my bedroom and across the open floor. Slowly I eased the door open, eyes glazed and tired.

There was nothing in the little space between the two doors and the elevator—not even one of Callie's or my shoes. And the haunting, eerie tune had moved. Now it was in the elevator shaft. I pressed the button and waited for the thing to come for me. When it did, I stepped in.

The sound was rising. I didn't know how far it would go, so I waited.

A button on the panel pressed itself. _112_. The floor we had the party on. As the elevator began to follow the music, it got louder. The same simple phrase of song was playing over and over.

_Ding!_ The pleasant sound of the elevator arriving at its floor interrupted the haunting melody. It only paused for a second before starting up again. It was coming from the shadows near the door that led out to the Iron Man landing pad. My bare feet making no noise as I crossed the cold hardwood, my face was blank and I didn't really even know why I was doing this—or what I was doing. The one part of my brain that had remained rational was shouting at me to get a grip. _Why are you following the song?!_ it demanded. I couldn't answer it. I _didn't_ know why.

Climbing up the stairs and opening the door, the skin that was exposed—just hands, feet, neck and head—was assaulted by chilly September air. After a few moments, the temperature crept up the satin of my leopard-skin-patterned jammies. I felt gooseflesh crawl up the rest of my body, even lifting up the hairs on my scalp.

A figure appeared at the end of the path, in the middle of the landing pad, emerging from the shadows of the night. His back was to me. He had thick light brown hair that was pretty short, but still brushed his ears. Powerful but slim shoulders flexed as he held the pipes to his lips. He wore a shirt of patchy greens, light brown trousers, and pale green boots that laced all the way up his knees. There were leather cuffs—slightly similar to the one I myself wore (one Tony bought for me at ComicCon for my seventeenth birthday)—on each of his wrists. His skin was pale, and strong, wiry muscles moved underneath it. He was tall, but not _Thor_ tall. Of course, no one was tall compared to Thor except Sam Winchester.

When he turned to face me, I froze, coming back to my senses even though he was still playing the alluring, spooky tune.

It was Peter Pan. Or rather, Robbie Kay. There were those blue eyes that appeared almost green in the right lights. There was that narrow face and those full lips I had a vague fantasy about kissing the night before. And the ears that kind of stuck out like he hadn't quite grown into them.

To be honest, despite the fact that I have the imagination of a five-year-old, my first thought was this was a prank Tony had come up with. I knew the tune from the _Once Upon a Time_ episode four in season three. Earlier in the day I'd even learned how to play it on my flute. And if I could figure it out by ear, so could he. But there was one thing that didn't quite add up.

I hadn't told _anyone_—not even Callie or Loki—that I was harboring that crush. They wouldn't know who to send me to play the prank. Unless they remembered that I was majorly crushing on Hook when we watched season two—then they would've sent Hook. Not Peter Pan.

When he caught me staring at him—dumbfounded—a slow, terrible smirk spread up his face. He stopped playing the pipes and placed them on a hook on his belt. "Hello Cass," he greeted.

"Robbie?" I edged.

"Who?"

Then my imagination hit a wall so hard it started reeling. _What if Once Upon a Time was real?!_It didn't seem likely, but it wasn't impossible. I mean, I was _dating_ a legend—an old Norse god. "No. Sorry. You're Peter Pan," I amended. Another, wider smirk and a bounce of those very flexible eyebrows.

"There you go."

"So what are you doing here?" The small talk was aggravating, but I couldn't think of anything else to say. What do you say to the main character of your favorite fairy tale who apparently just so happens to be a lying, manipulative _demon_ that was hotter than most of the men I'd ever seen in my entire life? See? You'd probably struggle to find something to say too.

"The pipes can only be heard by children who feel lost, lonely, or unloved," Peter Pan said.

"I've never felt unloved in my life," I sassed.

"No, I don't imagine you have. But that was an 'or.' Do you feel lost or lonely?"

Now that he mentioned it, I did. I was lost _and_ lonely. I didn't know what to do. I didn't even know when I'd see my mother, father, sister, cousins, _anyone_ again. I had the Avengers, Loki, and Callie, but I missed my family and just felt misplaced. "Yes. I do," I admitted.

"No wonder you can hear the song," he remarked, his own sass coming out. "You're just a little Lost Girl."

Okay. _That_ was going too far. I may have only been five-foot-one, but I was _NOT LITTLE!_ My dark eyes narrowed dangerously. "I'm not 'little' okay? I may be short, but you're still beneath me!" I snapped at him. He smirked. His form flickered and he was suddenly standing right in front of me—_more_ than a little too close for comfort.

He fingered the satin lapels of my jammies and lowered his head down until it was almost touching mine. "You know, you've got fire. I like fire," he purred in my ear, his lips brushing my skin.

My face slackened. "_You_ put that note on my desk?" I demanded, shoving him away from me enough that I could see his face. His lips drew up into another smirk and his left eyebrow lifted. It was a face I wanted to kiss and smack at the same time. Kiss because it was intensely attractive, seductive and sexy, smack because it was patronizing, arrogant, and irritating.

"That I did, love," he replied, licking his lips slowly. My urge to kiss him spiked at the leisurely movement.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, pressing my impulsive side—that rarely made an appearance but at the moment was dominating my brain—into the back of my mind as hard as I could. "Why are we talking?"

"Because two days ago I felt different. Something in my magic reacted to something here. Something connected to you. I flew here from Never Land to investigate. When I came, I found you. Watching something in that magic black box on the wall with a lot of men and a few girls. I was on that projection. I had to stay and find out what that was." He was still awkwardly close to me, but slowly my discomfort was wearing off.

"A TV show," I answered. "It's called _Once Upon a Time_. A retelling of classic fairy tales."

"Right. Okay." He leaned close to me again and this time instead of his lips brushing my ear, they trailed over the skin of my cheek nearest my ear. "I'll be back at night." Pulling back, he gave me a wink and vanished.

A blush crept over my face, spreading from the point where Peter's lips had touched the side of it. It warmed my ears and sent a shiver up and down my body.

* * *

><p><strong>End Note: *Squeaks* Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh! I love this so much! More fun and shenanigans coming soon! Love you guys! You're all AWESOME!<strong>

**Thanks for reading!**

**~Cass**


	6. 5: Shopping Sucks

In my own defense, I had _not_ seen season three, episode eight at that point and therefore didn't know who Peter Pan really was and his relationship to Rumplestiltskin. I didn't get time to see it until _way_ later, and when I finally did… I felt kind of dirty and disgusting. But at that particular point, I had no clue. And hey, ignorance is bliss isn't it?

When I finally went back downstairs to my own room and got in bed, there was another note on my desk. _Cass,_ was written on the front, just like the other one. Same extravagant handwriting. I opened it up eagerly. Four words.

_Until next time, Fire_.

Great. So now to Loki and the Avengers I was Fireball, and to Peter Pan I was Fire. There would be no confusion on my part there. I hope you know I'm being sarcastic.

* * *

><p>I spent most of the day running around the city with Pepper, Natasha, Jane, Callie, and some random woman looking for dresses to wear to the engagement party Tony was throwing for Jane and Thor later that night (the random woman turned out to be the wedding planner, by the way). Shoes would come next. We stopped at several <em>dozen<em> stores and tried on what felt like hundreds of dresses. If anyone hated dress-shopping more than me it was definitely Natasha. I enjoyed wearing fancy dresses and feeling like a princess on special occasions (don't tell Callie I said that, it would ruin my whole reputation), but I _hated_ shopping for them.

Instead of everyone trying theirs on at the same time—which would have gone _infinitely_ faster—we all tried them on individually with everyone else out in the waiting area critiquing.

Jane found hers fairly quickly, and for that I was grateful because it meant one less round of waiting in weird stores that smelled like too much perfume. It was long and form-fitting, made of satin and so bright red you'd be able to see her from adjacent buildings. A V-neck that was relatively low-cut but still modest—she was taken now after all—and beaded with little jewels that were maybe a shade darker than the dress just to give it texture.

Pepper found hers next. It was shorter—but not teenage-girl-ish short—and a dusty, silvery gray. The collar was round-necked and the back was open.

Natasha surprised us and selected hers after Pepper. It was black with thin red stripes going up and down, making her look taller. It stopped just above the knee with an extremely low neckline. It was slinky, tight, and meant to be alluring. _I_ just thought it looked uncomfortable.

Browsing through racks and racks and racks endlessly, through dozens of stores, I realized I didn't even know what Jane's wedding colors were. Grabbing dresses in my size and stalking into the dressing room, I set them on the hangers and started to try one on. It didn't quite fit right. Yanking it off and throwing it on the door, I pulled on the next one. A silk chocolate one with a gold band around the waist that fell the just below my knee. The collar was high enough to keep my modesty but low enough to leave just the right amount of bare chest for a relatively short necklace. Honestly I was just glad there were sleeves. They were just cap sleeves, but it was better than strapless. I liked not pulling my dress up every two seconds.

"Matches your eyes," a new voice commented. Jumping, I whirled to see Peter Pan leaned up against the wall in the enclosed space, arms crossed and smirking.

"What are you doing in here?" I hissed. "If they find out you're here—"

"They won't, don't worry. They're all still looking for dresses for your friend," he replied dismissively.

"Her name's Callie," I put in.

"Okay. They're all browsing for Callie's dress." He spun his finger indicated for me to turn.

"So what are you doing here?" I repeated, giving him my back and moving my braid off of it so he could zip it up the last few inches where I couldn't quite reach. He did so. Putting his hands on my shoulders, he slowly turned me back around and made sure I was only inches from him. My discomfort of being so close to him multiplied by ten because of the close quarters of the dressing room. "I thought you were only coming back at night."

"The temptation of seeing what you look like in a dress was too strong to resist," he replied, leaning down to whisper it in my ear. So close, I could smell him. It was kind of… minty. Loki just smelled of cold and frost, but Pan was of outdoors and adventure.

"Umm… thanks?" I edged. He smirked again.

"Hey Cass?" Callie started knocking on the door to my dressing room. Peter winked and disappeared. I opened up the door. "Oooh! That looks good on you! What do you think of this one?" She held up a yellow satin dress with gossamer/tool/whatever floaty layers on top of it. I folded my arms and cocked my head to the side thoughtfully.

"I don't like it," I decided. "You need to wear a light blue dress that goes with the tie Steve's gonna wear."

"How do you know what tie he's gonna wear?" Callie demanded. "He hasn't even told _me_ that!"

"He came by this morning when I was just finishing up my hair and told me to help you find a dress that went with the tie he had in his hand. It was light blue. Keep your hair on. He wants it to be a surprise," I explained.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me this the second we got in the car," she pouted.

"Why do you think I've been pushing the blue ones all day?"

"I don't know."

"Well, chill out and don't be whiny. I told you now. When Steve asks, just say I never said anything. I almost didn't."

I seemed to diffuse most of her shock, because she changed the subject. "That dress goes with your eyes," she commented. I smiled and nodded my thanks, holding in my recoil. Peter had said almost that exact same thing moments before and I was still a little appalled at his sudden appearance. I withdrew back into the dressing room and closed the door. I hung it on the _maybe_ peg and dropped another dress over my head.

It was mint green, and way too short. I was pretty sure it had been shoved into my arms by the wedding planner woman. The second it was on, I went out into the waiting area, gave the women a spin, and stalked back into the small room. It went on the _no_ peg.

"Cass," Pepper entreated. "Come back out and show it to us better."

"I'm already out of it," I replied with a bit more bite than I'd intended. "I didn't like it. Too short and not my color."

"But you look so good in natural colors."

"All colors are natural," I muttered, my knowledge of science speaking out.

"I know, but the greens, blues, and browns go so well with your skin tone and your eyes and hair!" she protested.

I slipped my arms through the sleeves of the next dress and smirked. This one would catch attention. Zipping it up—this one's zipper was low enough that I could do it without help from the back—I adjusted my hair and beamed at my reflection in the mirror.

Behind me, Peter's form flickered into existence for a moment, and gave me a smile, wink, and nod of approval before disappearing.

I turned and opened up the door. Pepper took a few steps back and returned to the couch.

"Um… wow," Callie said, her mouth opening in surprise.

Okay. The dress was bright orange. It was another color I looked good in. It was down to just below my knees, showing that I was young but modest. It was loose enough to be comfortable but tight enough to be appealing. There were cap sleeves—always a bonus. The back was kind of low but the neckline was high enough I wouldn't even need a necklace.

"Does it look that bad?" I asked. There was a joke in my tone, but also a legitimate question.

"No. It looks good," Natasha put in. Jane nodded. Her dress you'd be able to see from the buildings around the Tower. This one would be able to be seen from the top of the Empire State Building several blocks away. Talk about bright.

"It's gotta be that one or the brown one," Callie said decidedly.

"I didn't see the brown one," Pepper remarked. I pulled it out of the dressing room and showed it to her. When she saw it, her eyebrows shot up. "Yeah, definitely one of those two," she agreed.

"We should get both of them and let Loki decide," Callie suggested. I pressed my lips together thoughtfully, my eyes shifting to Pepper.

"That… sounds great," she remarked. "And whichever one you don't wear to the party you can wear to the rehearsal dinner or the reception—or even the wedding." I snorted and tried to hide it behind my hand—but that didn't quite work. Pepper's eyebrows scrunched. "What? What's wrong?"

"If Loki decides on the brown one for the party, I am _not_ going to wear a bright orange dress to my friend's wedding!" I exclaimed. Callie started laughing, Natasha snickered, and Jane cracked a smile. The wedding planner hadn't made two facial expressions the entire time we'd been with her, so I wasn't surprised when she didn't react and if anything there was a distasteful look in her eyes of _Darn right you aren't._ Probably because I was gonna be a bridesmaid and had to wear a bridesmaid dress.

"I see your point," Callie commented through the giggle fit.

* * *

><p><strong>End Note: Eep! Love it! Next chapter is where things get a little more interesting. And the chapter after that is going to be even better. I love you all and I'm SO glad you're liking this as much as you are! Catchathief and callieandjack, don't you dare take this away from me. I'll sic my fictional boyfriend on you. Seriously, love you guys!<strong>

**~Cass**


	7. 6: Parties and Visits

**Author's Note: I don't really have much to say. But I love this story. I hope you guys are liking it too. Catchathief, callieandjack, Demigod-GallagherGirl, and ****_ALL _****others, thank you so much! I love you all! Please, if you enjoy it as much as I do, feel free to leave me a review. I know a lot of people say that, but it honestly does make me feel great. In my neighborhood, I'm one of the only writers, so I don't ever get a lot of feedback from people like me. You guys are so awesome 'cause you guys give me feedback!**

**On another note, this chapter is good, but the next chapter is where it gets _really_ good. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Loki put his tongue between his teeth when I walked out of the elevator in the brown dress wearing my comfortable but dressy moccasins. "Who are you and what have you done to my tomboyish girlfriend?" he asked cheekily. I laughed and kissed his cheek.<p>

"Wait till you see the other one," Callie exclaimed vehemently, coming out of the stairwell across Steve's shoulders. He must have been doing some sort of stair workout and needed weight pushing down on him to make it harder. Or they were just being strange. To be honest, I'd lived in the same building with them for so long that neither would have surprised me.

Loki's eyebrows shot up. "What does it look like?" he asked.

"It's a surprise!" I said before Callie could put anything in. Loki thoughtfully stroked the silk sleeves with his thumbs.

"I want to see it," he decided. I beamed.

So, five minutes later, I came out of the elevator to Steve and Callie on the sofa chilling out, and Loki pacing. When the _ding_ resounded off the hardwood floor and the bare walls, he whirled. I stepped out into the open in the orange dress and silver sandals. Little silver star earrings hung from my ears. I hated dangly earrings because I had sensitive ears, but they didn't dangle very far so they wouldn't hurt as long as I didn't touch them. I gave him a little spin. "What do you think?" I asked. I was expecting a smile and a nod of approval—much like the one I got from Pan in the dressing room. But I should have known not to expect _anything_ living in the Tower for almost four years.

Loki's jaw dropped to his chest. He crossed to me in one stride and pressed his mouth to mine. I tried not to recoil, but I was shocked. When he broke away, my breath came a little heavier.

"What was that for?" I breathed.

"That's a reminder to you that you're mine and I'm yours. For tonight when some young cousin of Jane's starts to flirt with you," he replied. I grinned, cradled his narrow, knife-like face between my hands, pulled him closer, and kissed him again. This one was gentle and soft. He smelled like morning frost on pine needles. I held him close to me for several long minutes. Pan being close was awkward, but Loki was comfortable. He was just as much home to me as the Tower was.

"We thought we'd let you decide which dress I should wear to the party tonight," I told him.

"The orange one, definitely."

* * *

><p>"Seriously? You can do that?" I asked Natasha.<p>

"When my hair was longer I wore it like that to several different parties. Because a) it keeps it out of the way and b) it's stylish," she replied, toying with my wet hair. I was sitting in my desk chair in front of the mirror in my bathroom with a towel over my shoulders to keep my soaked locks from dampening my dress. Natasha was standing behind me, looking down at the thick curtain of brown in front of her that I was letting her do.

"But the movie only came out a year ago!"

"What, you think they invented that hairstyle?" she retorted sarcastically.

"Touché," I remarked, keeping her tone in mine.

She started to braid my hair in one long thick rope down my back. I watched her deft fingers in the mirror. She worked at it quickly. I'd worn my braid almost every day, but I still missed the way my mom did it—she could do a French braid that kept my long mane under control. Come to think of it, I just missed my mom.

It took about a half hour for her to get my hair to cooperate, and then another five minutes to do my makeup—which consisted of black mascara, sparkle eye shadow, and peppermint lip-gloss.

When I walked out of my apartment, Callie was already waiting for me in a pale blue dress that drifted delicately to the floor. It had lace sleeves down to her elbows. A silver chain with one of Steve's dog tags hung in the center of the small V-neck. She wore silver heels that were just high enough to stay practical. Her lips parted in surprise when she saw my hairdo. I gave her a slightly concerned smile. I knew for a _fact_ that my hair was looking good tonight, so I didn't know what her surprised face was for. She lifted her hand up and touched where my braid circled the top of my head.

"Elsa's hairstyle?" she asked. "The coronation one?"

Oh. _That's_ what had her so shocked. I beamed and nodded. "Yup!" I smirked. "And I plan on giving a full performance of Let It Go tonight, including the hair thing and a full on dress-change." Since I used sarcasm so much, it was often difficult for people to tell if I was being serious or not when I said stuff like that. Callie looked at me like she was trying to decipher my sincerity in my face—which years of carefulness kept blank so no one got any clues there. He-he-he. I'm not even going to tell _you_.

We got in the elevator together and started to head down. "Excited?" she asked.

I nodded. "Oh!" I shouted, so loud it made her jump. "Right! If—by chance—a song plays that you think is a little out of place, I had nothing to do with it."

"Cass…" Callie warned.

"I mean," I continued, "Tony's music tastes are slapdash at best, so really, I didn't have anything to do with it." I was talking very quickly on purpose. If she thought I was lying she'd spend the entire night in anticipation for the out-of-place song, they may or may not actually be in the evening's playlist.

The door opened on the second floor. We both stepped out. Loki and Steve were waiting for us. Loki was in his silver-green-and-black formal armor, silver horned helmet on his head. Steve was in a nice suit with the pale blue tie he'd shown me earlier. I gave Steve a smile and a wave before taking Loki's arm and kissing his cheek. "Good evening, my prince," I greeted him.

"Good evening, my angel," he replied. I chuckled. Usually it was "Fireball."

"Lokster!" Tony shouted, approaching us. He gave me a hug and attempted to give Loki a high-five—but that failed epic-ly. "Do you like the party?"

There were already about two hundred people on the main ballroom. Since the place could hold like… a thousand, it didn't look crowded yet, but I was already starting to feel a little claustrophobic. And everyone who was invited hadn't even arrived yet. My skin began to crawl, so I pressed myself closer to Loki and gave Tony a very noncommittal grunt. As soon as I got up to the small mezzanine overlooking the ballroom, where only a few people were allowed, I'd feel better. "Can we go up?" I whispered to my boyfriend, nodding towards the balcony. He looked down at me and gave me a tiny nod of his head.

"Of course." We crossed the ballroom, giving people polite greetings. When we reached the stairs, Loki let go of my arm. "You go on up. I must go speak with my brother." He gave me a reassuring kiss and I stepped quickly up the stairs.

On the level up there was a small table out of view of people. I went over to it and sat in one of its chairs. How I'd managed to live in a city of eight million people for the last three years was a mystery to me. I remembered going to ComicCon where there was a hundred and thirty thousand people and not feeling this freaked. Maybe it was just because at ComicCon I was among people like myself—nerds. The people who never really grew up.

Speaking of never growing up…

"I like that one on you. Makes you stand out," a British voice commented.

"Thanks," I replied, turning to see Peter Pan leaned up against the far wall. He had changed his clothes from the wild-looking greens and browns to a pair of nice black trousers, white button-up collared shirt, and a vest with a gold front. It was impressive really, how good he looked in this new outfit. "Because the last thing I want is attention."

"Are you giving your performance from up here?" he asked.

"I don't even know if I'm going to perform. There are too many people."

"And they're not even all here yet."

"I know," I muttered.

"Have you never been in large crowds before?"

I sighed and stared right at his eyes. This was _so_ weird. He was supposed to be a character in one of my favorite TV shows. He wasn't supposed to be _here_ making comments on my dress and people-phobia. "I have, actually. But they were nice people. These are New Yorkers. They're nice, but not _that_ nice." He smirked and took the seat next to me. His eyes, in this light, were blue and sparkling with humor and what I was pretty sure was mischief. I couldn't quite tell because he was pretty good at hiding it, but I could guess something was up.

"You look beautiful, Cass," he told me. He was being sincere.

"Thank you. You don't look too bad yourself."

"Well, this is an outfit I save for special occasions."

"Cass, get away from him!" Loki's voice ordered.

* * *

><p><strong>End Note: Oh snap. What's gonna happen? Of course, I know, but I won't tell you until next time! Stay tuned! Love you guys!<strong>

**Thanks for reading!**

**~Cass**


	8. 7: Now is not the time for FROZEN jokes!

**Author's Note: Don't know if you guys noticed, but I just put up a cover image for this story. I made it during my free time in my digital media class in Photoshop with a picture of a jungle, Loki, and Peter Pan. It was fun. Hope you guys like it. I'm quite proud of it. I know it's not a masterpiece, but hey, I'm still working on my skills. Originally it was going to have a picture of me in it too, but I kinda ruined the look and deleted it. **

**And by the way, I don't think this showdown is going to be as epic as you think - I'm saving THAT scale of awesome for later. I promise.**

* * *

><p>Peter shoved me behind him, like he was trying to protect me. My boyfriend appeared at the top of the stairs, looking angry. I sucked in a deep breath, watching two sets of icy eyes glaring at each other. "Loki what's going on?" I asked him.<p>

"This _boy_ is a fiend!" Loki spat.

"Oh, and you're not?" Peter retorted, one of his very expressive eyebrows lifting patronizingly.

"What, is there bad blood between you two?" I asked, looking at Loki over Peter's shoulder.

"'Bad blood' is a bit of an understatement, Fireball," Loki said darkly.

I took a few steps back as the confrontation between my not-so-fictional crush and IRL boyfriend escalated. Their insults turned to shouts. A magical spell went up from one of them—Loki if I _had_ to guess, but really I couldn't tell—that shielded the rest of the ballroom from their noise. I got closer to the railing to see if I could find Callie and Steve anywhere. They both had a remarkably calming effect on warring parties, and at that moment, I'd be grateful for their presence. Steve wasn't too hard to pick out in a crowd, but in the few minutes I'd stepped out of the main area, another hundred people had shown up. And I couldn't see the soldier or my friend's blue dress _anywhere_. "Crap," I hissed.

I turned just in time to see Peter pull a dagger out of his belt. He was gripping the blade between his fingers. Loki was a knife-fighter. I knew what that meant. He was getting ready to throw it. Out of precaution, I took another step back. I _really_ didn't want to be involved in this. I just wanted to sing a song, dance for a minute, then go hide and watch Netflix for the rest of the night.

A flash of silver and Peter's knife went whizzing through the air. A lightning reflex from Loki sent one of his own knives spinning for the one already in motion. With a _clank_ and a burst of light—probably reflected into my eyes by one of the blades—they went flying in opposite directions.

My eyes widened.

I looked down to see the hilt of Peter's knife sticking out from under my ribcage.

"Oh," I muttered weakly, one hand rising to touch it. When the red started to bloom around it I had to look away. "Look at that. I've been impaled." _This is not the time for _Frozen_ jokes!_ I could almost hear Callie's voice chastising me in my head. My breathing slowed down and I started to fall back, more out of shock than force.

Peter teleported—for lack/want of a better word—to right behind me. He caught my shoulders and lowered me to the ground.

"Cass!" Loki shouted, panicked and frantic. He started to rush to my side where my upper body was supported by Peter's knees.

"Get away from her!" Peter spat. His hand lashed out. A burst of magic sent Loki flying backwards through the air where he hit the stairs and tumbled down them. I wanted to sit up to see if he was okay, but a knife was sticking out of my lower abdomen. That kind of put a damper in my muscle control. "Cass? Are you okay? Stay with me!" Peter pleaded.

"I'm bleeding," was all I could say.

"I'm going to get you help," he promised.

A plume of green smoke surrounded us, but before it cleared, I blacked out.

* * *

><p>I didn't dream while I was unconscious. I guess it was the bloodloss, but I'm not very scientific so I honestly have no clue. Usually when I'm sick or injured I have whacky dreams. But not this time. There was just blackness until I slowly rose back into proper consciousness like bubbles whizzing towards the surface of the ocean.<p>

My eyelids fluttered open to vibrant, large green leaves far over my head. I recognized them from a project I did in Biology in school. I couldn't remember their names, but I remembered that they only grew natively in a jungle.

My abs flexed to try and sit up, but lances of pain lashed through my body.

"Don't move," a familiar voice advised. A hand gently pressed my shoulder back until I was lying on what felt like a mattress. A mattress in a jungle? Where the heck was I? "You'll strain your bandages."

Come to think of it, I could feel something like a corset keeping my blood from seeping out through the knife wound. As the pain increased with my clarity of mind, I felt tears welling up in my eyes. It wasn't just because of how bad it hurt, it was because—in an indirect-ish way—_my _Loki caused it. He'd deflected the knife with his own and sent it right at me before anyone could react or do anything. Suddenly I heard Clint's warning in my head the day Loki and I announced that we were officially together. _That man is dangerous, and one day he'll hurt you._

Yeah, maybe I should have listened.

But maybe not. Three years together he hadn't once hurt me. And the one time he did, it was his fault, but not exactly his fault.

"You need to rest," Peter continued, coming into my range of vision. He was back in his green-and-brown casual clothes. I could see blood—_my _blood—on his arms as he pulled the blankets up around my shoulders and tucked them under my chin. "You'll feel better when morning comes, I promise." I sighed, letting my eyelids droop closed.

_"Cass? Cass, are you okay?" Callie's voice was shouting through my dream. Through the black mists around me, she swam into view. She was in her jammies and I was in… some kind of clothes. They were pretty patchy, but not important. "Cass! We're all so worried about you! You disappeared and Loki said Peter Pan from _Once Upon a Time_ stabbed you!" When she reached me she placed her hands on my shoulders and looked hard at my eyes._

_ "Peter threw a knife at Loki. He deflected it with _his_ knife and it flew into me. I'm not exactly sure where I am, but I thought I saw jungle."_

_ "Are you still wearing the bracelet Tony got for you at ComicCon?"_

_ "I think so. I don't remember taking it off."_

_ "Okay. We might be able to find you." She let go and started to fade._

_ "Wait! Callie!" I was scared. I didn't want to be left alone in the darkness. "How are we talking? Aren't I asleep?"_

_ My friend smirked. "We're special, Cass. Both of us."_

* * *

><p><strong>End Note: Dearest callieandjack, I put up this chapter instead of another one for UaVS2 because I want to let the other one sink in. I know I told you in my PM that I was putting up two for Violet-Sky, but I'm not. Sorrynotsorry.<strong>

**On another note, y'all are awesome and I'll see you whenever I get the chance. I recently transferred into AP Biology and am currently swamped with make-up work, so if I don't post for a while, sorry. My life is hectic.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**~Cass**


	9. 8: Imagination Runs Wild

**Author's Note: I'm just on an updating spree! I posted five chapters of _Under a Violet Sky 2_ a few minutes ago because I haven't in ages, and I'm getting around to this one now! Maybe later I'll put up a new chapter for _I'm a Lover Not a Fighter, But I Will Fight for What I Love_! This has been absolutely marvelous!**

* * *

><p>"Loki?" I woke up several hours after I'd gone to sleep. I was still in a lot of pain. When my eyes opened, I saw Peter perched on the edge of the bed I was lying on. His face was scrunched up in concern and his fists were clenched on his knees. I coughed, blood coming saltily into my throat. His head snapped over and looked at me. He was off the edge and up closer to my head in the blink of an eye.<p>

"Cass? Cass, are you okay?" he demanded.

"What did you do to Loki?" I asked, voice muffled by blood.

"I kept him away from you. He hurt you," Pan growled.

"You threw the knife," I pointed out, one hand pressing against my abdomen where the wound was in an attempt to repress the pain and the other one finding his wrist. I held onto it and looked him right in the eye.

"That I did," he admitted. "And if I hadn't, you wouldn't be here with a knife wound in your stomach. I ruined your party."

Now, a good man—or in this case, _young_ man—admits his wrongs. Him saying the things he did and looking genuinely sorry about it was extremely endearing to me. I patted his wrist, my fingers brushing the leather cuff. "It wasn't my party," I corrected, sassy but weak. The fire that should have been in my tone was diminished to a tiny little ember by the pain coursing through me. "And yeah, it was ruined, but I wouldn't have had much fun there anyway." That was true. I'd felt so enclosed and crowded and scared of people that I wouldn't have been able to enjoy myself—even with my Loki there.

"Your bandages need to be changed. Do you mind if I…?" Peter trailed off. I shook my head. He tugged the covers down to reveal my torso. I wasn't in the orange dress anymore. I was in clothes like his. "Sorry. We had to put you in clean clothes. We figured you wouldn't want to sleep in your own blood."

"No. It's fine. Thank you," I replied. I figured the "we" was the Lost Boys and him—or his second-in-command Felix.

"May I?"

I nodded. He lifted the green shirt up to show my bandage-wrapped lower abdomen. Felix came into view with fresh white cloth in his hands. I didn't like Felix very much in _Once Upon a Time_. He came off as sinister, whereas Pan came off as cunning. Maybe it was how he talked _really slow._

They worked quickly, in tandem with each other. I barely even felt like my privacy was violated—nothing above my ribcage was exposed. They used some sort of liquid to disinfect the little gaping hole I couldn't bring myself to look at. It stung and I felt my eyes water, but I was okay. Once it was disinfected and cleaned, they sat me up and rewrapped the gauze around my trunk. I winced as they leaned me back down. It hurt.

"So… where are we?"

"Take a guess," Peter replied. My eyebrows rose a little higher.

"Never Land?" I guessed.

"That's the one," he answered with a smile. "Welcome. I'm sorry you couldn't come and visit under better circumstances." He sounded like he meant it. "Never Land is usually a wonderful, _wonderful_ place." Felix grunted in noncommittal agreement but didn't say anything. He tucked the last bandage into place and went trouncing off.

"I don't think he likes me very much," I commented. I sounded like I was drugged. Maybe I was.

"Don't worry about him. He's just slow to trust."

"You mean you told him everything about me and how something I did made your chest burn and now he thinks I'm some sort of dark sorceress who's going to destroy everything," I corrected. Peter took a moment to think before he nodded.

"Yeah. Something like that," he replied.

"It's okay. But I promise I don't know what it is that's in me or whatever that made your magic react." I had my suspicions of course, but nothing solid. Did I think it was a coincidence that he just so _happened_ to feel his magic burning at around the same time I started harboring a fictional character crush on the _Once Upon a Time_ version of him (though they seemed to be the same version)? No. I didn't think it was a coincidence. I watched _Sherlock_ for pity's sake. And what do we say about coincidences Sherlock? _The universe is rarely so lazy._ Of course, _Doctor Who_ disagreed with that—saying that was the universe's way of having fun—but I digress. Some part of me starting to like him was sending some sort of magical signal from New York City to Never Land. And I had no clue what it was.

_We're special, Cass. Both of us._

Callie's words from my dream suddenly rang through my head like a really loud, really annoying bell. We were "special." What did that mean? Did _I_ have magic? That didn't seem likely. Loki would have been able to feel if I had magic or not. And we'd been together for almost four years. We'd been through a lot—like being trapped in that cellar for two days—if I had powers, he would have known about it.

Of course, on the other hand, Callie visited me in a _dream_. She was in her _pajamas_ and I was in the clothes I was wearing right at that moment. I didn't even know what to make of that. Did _she_ have magic?

Peter patted my shoulder. "Get some more rest. I'll bring you something to eat soon. The faster you heal, the better you'll feel." He stood straight and went walking through the trees to a camp not far away. The Lost Boys sounded like they were having a party or a fire dance or something. My mind shot to the Once Upon a Time episode in season three where they were doing something similar. I wondered if they were celebrating anything. Unlikely.

"You're a poet and you know it," I joked with him. He came back.

"_Get some rest, Cass_," he repeated. There was force in his tone, but also amusement and teasing. He disappeared again and I relaxed against the mattress.

I quickly realized there was no way I was gonna get any sleep with the boys shouting and banging sticks around. I could sleep through noise, but it kept me up for several hours before my brain just broke down and crashed. My guess was I'd have to toss and turn for quite a while before I got the chance to finally get a few decent hours in.

Then, just like that, the boys' animal calls went silent and there was peace in the jungle.

I wondered if Pan had put up some sort of spell like he or Loki had at the engagement party or… or if I had done it. I still didn't believe that I had magic, but I was open to the possibility. Rumplestiltskin had said that Never Land was a place where imagination ran wild. And, since writing stories was one of the only hobbies I had, mine ran faster and crazier than most normally sane people could even begin to comprehend. My dreams helped spur it along (saving an accountant that turned out to be the Cookie Monster from a Chitauri lawyer by jumping out of a skyscraper being one example), but otherwise it ran pretty well on its own.

And I had no clue what that would mean for me on Never Land.

* * *

><p><strong>End Note: Unlike usual, that dream is NOT one I've actually had, unfortunately. And it's just my luck to be caught in a love triangle with two villains isn't it? *sigh* That's okay though! Villains are hot!<strong>

**To "Nihlo (Guest)": Thank you! Glad you're rooting for Loki. I like him too, but unfortunately, we just don't know who'll win! To "callieandjack": Yes, we do indeed have a special connection, the kinks of which I'm still working out. To "Rockinwiz": I'm sorry you don't like Peter Pan, but I understand why.**

**Anyway, sorry this took a while. I'm still a little head-under, but I'm swimming as hard as I can!**

**Thanks for reading! Love you guys!**

**~Cass**


	10. 9: callieandcass

**Author's Note: So! Here we are again. To all you Americans out there, hope you had a happy Thanksgiving! To all others, hope you've had a ****_great_**** weekend. I did. It largely involved shopping for a school dance and avoiding my cousins.**

* * *

><p><em>Callie<em>

* * *

><p>"C'mon Tony!" I groaned, pacing through the lab while Tony sat in front of a hologram that was displaying a map of the globe. "You said the tracker in Cass's bracelet could transmit to here from <em>anywhere <em>on the planet!"

"That's just the problem, Cal," Tony replied. I could tell he was trying very hard to be patient. "She's not _on_ this planet somehow."

"She said she saw jungle," I insisted again.

Tony rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers. "I know that. I've scanned every jungle, every tropical rainforest, everywhere and anywhere there are _trees_. I can't find her _anywhere._ She's not on Earth anymore. There's nothing I can do about that." He sounded irritated and tired. I guess I couldn't blame him. I'd kind of been at his throat for most of the day trying to get him to find Cass. So far everything we'd tried had been a complete and utter dead end. Both of us were getting frustrated. Heck, _all_ of us were getting frustrated. As the youngest, Cass was the baby sister of the family and it felt like we'd lost her forever. Thor and Loki had already returned to Asgard to see if Heimdall could find her.

No luck.

"Dead end, dead end, dead end, _dead end!"_ I growled. Tony stood up from his chair and put his hands on my shoulders.

"Look. You just need some rest. Go get some sleep. We'll double our efforts in the morning."

Grumbling, I went to the elevator and punched the button for the floor I shared with Cass. The elevator glided down its shaft and deposited me where I told it to. With a _ding_ too pleasant to be allowed in the stressful situation, I stalked out—and nearly bumped into Steve. "Whoa there," he said, taking my upper arms and stabilizing me. "I know you're trying your best to find her, but don't beat yourself up. Peter Pan took her after she got hit in the stomach by a knife. Maybe he took her back to Never Land and is healing her. Maybe he'll give her back after she's all better."

"Yeah, and maybe the moon is made of cheese," I muttered. In my duress, I found myself using a lot of Cass's sass. "Have you even been _watching_ season three of _Once_? You've seen how manipulative and dangerous and evil he is!"

Steve sighed and kissed my forehead gently. "I miss her too you know," he commented. His lips found mine. "She's a sister to all of us. Don't think you're going through this alone."

"I refuse to believe that she's dead," I said decisively.

"I wasn't saying that that's what I think. You know Cass just as well as I do—if not better than. She's strong, she's feisty, and she's got enough sass to scare a hurricane off course. She'll be okay," he promised. "But we all miss her, and we're all going to do everything in our power to get her back." I gave my Steve a small, sad smile. When Cass and I had been pulled away from our families for protection, we'd gravitated towards each other because the others were already a tight-knit group. We were the outsiders. And we only had one other person to talk to in awkward situations. If she had gone and gotten herself killed I was going to kill her. Twice.

"Thanks," I told him. One last kiss and he got in the elevator.

I peered into Cass's apartment. The entire thing was a vibrant shade of electric blue. It was familiar and homey. It reminded me of one of our first nights in the Tower. We were watching the city skyline and playing Go Fish. I won. We laughed and discovered each other's favorite colors. She'd told me about her hobbies and I mine.

I pulled out and went into my own, shutting the door behind me and flicking the lock. I changed into my pajamas and looked out the window at the now-familiar horizon, sitting on my bed, eyes glazing over, waiting for sleep to come claim me.

* * *

><p><em>Back to Cass<em>

* * *

><p>My sleep was fitful. I tossed and turned and woke up several times before I was claimed by Morpheus at last. My dreams were confused and troubled. I couldn't quite reach peace. Several hours later, I opened my eyes and rolled over so I was facing the other way.<p>

Peter was sitting near the bed I was in on a boulder and looking concerned. His hands fiddled endlessly with the pipes between them. "Mornin'," I slurred tiredly.

He snapped to attention. "Cass! Are you okay?" he demanded, coming to my side.

"Aside from recovering from getting stabbed by a projectile, I'm _great_," I groaned sarcastically.

Peter smiled. "There's that fire. Keep it up. You'll need that strength to heal." He patted my shoulder. "_Now,_ you need to eat."

I grabbed his wrist. "Help me sit up?" I requested.

"What for?"

"I can't swallow very well lying down." _Duh, moron,_ I added silently.

He hooked his elbows under my armpits and drew me up into a sitting position carefully enough to not damage my injury. "Now. Here's the thing about Never Land. If you _believe_ it, it can happen. What do you want to eat?" he asked. I shrugged. "Okay… whatever it is, just believe you have it, and you will." I was skeptical about what he was saying, but I'd dated Loki long enough to know that belief was a powerful magical force. So, figuring I had nothing to lose, I closed my eyes and concentrated. I believed/imagined I was holding a plate of toast and a mug of hot chocolate—specifically my SuperWhoLock one.

My arm muscles braced to hold up sudden weight. I peeled my eyes open to see a small plate of toast and my favorite mug full of cocoa. My mouth fell open and I let out a short burst of laughter.

Peter smirked. "Tuck in." He glanced over his shoulder as shouting echoed from the camp. "I have to go see what those hooligans are getting up to. I'll be right back. Enjoy your breakfast." He gave my shoulder another pat and went jogging the short distance to the compound where he and the Lost Boys lived. I watched him disappear before ripping the top crust of the toast with my teeth and chewing it.

By the time he got back, I was finished, and eager to stretch my legs. "Can you help me walk around? I need to stretch." He shrugged, like he'd given up on trying to dissuade me. If I knew anything about his character from _Once Upon a Time_, it was that he certainly hadn't given up—not really. He was probably biding his time until I was one more obedient Lost One.

_Yeah—freakin'—right_. Like that was ever going to happen. I had too much going for me back at the Tower. I had Loki and Callie and the Avengers—and Jane and Thor's freaking wedding. Pan wouldn't be able to keep me from that. It was in two weeks—I could be healed enough by then to attend. I didn't know how good of a bridesmaid I'd be with a bandage keeping me from bleeding out, but I sure-as-heck was going to that wedding and no amount of manipulation was going to change my mind. That would be the first thing Peter was going to find out about me on this island.

But I digress.

"Sure." He slung one arm around my back, put mine around his shoulders, and heaved me up into a standing position. I didn't trust him not to drop me, but I didn't have a choice since I didn't dare use my core muscles to keep me up for fear of ripping the scabbing injury and reopening it. Stomach wounds were dangerous—something about digestive acids getting into the bloodstream—so I was content to not reopen it. I liked living. Not to mention I had to get home to my family. Why couldn't he have just taken me to a hospital? At that particular point, I was pretty sure stitches would have been a _great_ idea. At the very least I could have a pain pill and heal a little better.

"So how'd you get me into these clothes?" I asked as we hobbled down the uneven, makeshift path towards the camp.

"Magic. It's not difficult. We didn't want to violate your privacy."

_Holy crap,_ that was considerate. I imagined a few of the boys wouldn't have been disappointed if Peter had to cut me out of my dress and leave me there in my underclothing—but I was extremely grateful he'd been so kind. "Wow. Thank you. Can you use magic to heal me?"

"No. I'm sorry. My dagger is enchanted to only allow natural healing. It was intended for use against enemies—never against a lady."

* * *

><p><strong>End Note: Hope this was a decent chapter. I enjoy writing this more than you know. Have a great week, and to all who celebrate, I wish you a very early "Happy Holidays!" because I don't know when I'm going to update next! Now, if you'll excuse me, it's raining outside so I must go watch Star Wars.<strong>

**Thanks for reading! Love y'all!**

**~Cass**


End file.
